by Redding, Mae
Marge hesitated. Stunned by my appearance then she pulled me to her. I clutched her tightly as the realization that I could lose Trey became more than possible. I looked up at her with pleading eyes to give me some kind of reassurance that he would be okay. Her eyes, overflowed with tears and I recognized the fear she had for him along with the months of worry and anguish she’d harbored for us. She went to say something then stopped, unable to speak. Her chin trembled as she brushed my disheveled hair off my face.
“Marge,” Dr. Walstrom called out from the room, “I need bandages.”
“I better get back to Trey, Jade. We’ll do everything we can,” she said, and I pulled away from her as she backed into the room and shut the door. I rested my head on the closed door to the room with a faint thud and the tears quietly fell. Gage stepped up behind me.
“Jade…”
I turned around and looked at him with heavy eyes to see his, hazy and worn. His once white shirt stained red from blood and blackened from ash and debris.
“You’re shot,” I said. His skin, black as his shirt, charred with ash and marred with streaks of dried blood down his arm.
“I’m fine,” he shrugged.
“We should clean it up,” I said, and grabbed Gage’s arm as I turned to go into the kitchen then stopped as I looked around. I had no idea where the kitchen was.
“It’s this way,” he said, then led me into the kitchen. Twice the size of the one I grew up in and beautiful with designer tile, burnt almond, knotty alder cabinets and black granite countertops along with its modern stainless steel appliances, everything useless to us now. The electric stove, pushed to the side in the far corner. A wood burning stove took the place of the electric one and looked like it didn’t belong. But now, with wood and old newspaper stacked to the side and boiling pots of water that littered the surface it was the most important thing in there. I wondered where it came from.
Gage winced, favoring his right shoulder as he removed his shirt. The wounds, charred black with dried blood caked around them, had already started to close inside and I hoped infection wouldn’t set in. One of the bullets entered through muscle and tissue on the backside of his shoulder and went clean through to the other side, exiting right below his collarbone, barely high enough to miss his lung. The second one, in his upper arm. His muscles tensed as I felt softly for the hard lump of a bullet and felt what I thought to be it, embedded deep in his muscle against the bone. He winced when I touched it.
Marge walked in, carrying some bandages. “Marge?” I pleaded for her to offer some kind of direction on what I should do. “The bullet is still in his arm.”
With a fleeting glance, she looked at us, then at his arm. Her face a ghostly white, her expression flustered and distracted. “You’ll have to get it out,” she said, then poured hot water from a pan into a basin of antiseptic and left it to cool. She spread out two clean towels next to two still folded on the table, then with tongs plucked surgical tools out of a boiling pan and set them on the towels. She handed me a washcloth then rolled up the tools into one of the towels, leaving me with a few and hurried towards the door. “What about something for pain?” I asked her before she made it out of the kitchen.
She glanced at me. Regret swam in her eyes as she pushed against the swinging door with her behind and started to back out. “I don’t have anything… I barely had enough for Trey.”
“But… Marge,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. My insides churned with panic at the thought of digging around in Gage’s arm with a sharp instrument.
“Jade,” he said, “she needs to help Trey.”
“I know,” I said, as I glanced at him, the dread on my face, probably no less evident than the bullet wounds in his body.
“You can do it,” he encouraged as I washed my hands in the sink. I glanced at the gray soapy bubbles around my skeletal hands as I rinsed them clean under the cold water. They trembled almost constantly, a trembling that went systemic throughout my insides. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold them still. I looked at Gage, my eyes heavy with dread and exhaustion.
Steam rose in the air with the strong sterile scent of antiseptic as I wet the cloth. The hot water felt good on my hands as I rung out the water. “This might sting,” I said. His muscles tensed as I touched it to him and let it soak. Gently, I wiped over his shoulder and worked my way down his arm. Jagged, raw flesh where the bullet pierced through his body appeared as I washed the dirt and blood away. The wound a bright red, inflamed and puffy.
My arms grew tired after only a few minutes of holding them up. “Will you sit?” I asked.
“Ya,” he said, and then pulled out a chair. The wooden legs scraped, sounding something like nails on the chalkboard screech against the tile floor. I shuttered at the sound as goose bumps traveled up my neck and into my hair, my senses heightened, overstimulated.
With a deep sigh he sat in the chair, his knees bounced slightly with what I assumed was dreaded anticipation as I picked up some hemostats. My heart hammered in my chest as I fumbled with them, trying to press through swollen tissue to get to the slug. Blood pooled in the wound then seeped out and dripped down his arm. His eyes closed as he gripped the armrests, his arms went rigid and his breaths increased as he tried to work through the pain. I dug deeper in search for the slug and he groaned through his teeth so I stopped.
“I can’t…”
“It’s okay… use that knife,” he said, his breaths more labored as his eyes opened and he motioned towards the instruments with a nod of his head and a raise of his brows. He gave me a sideways glance. Moisture glistened on his forehead. “You’re going to have to cut through my arm a little… Just do it.”
I picked up the knife and held it to his arm. The blade tapped repeatedly against the wound from my trembling fingers. The knot in my throat, difficult to breathe around and I felt tears just below the surface as I pressed the blade into his wound. It had to hurt. His arm shook as his bicep bulged and muscle tensed around the knife.
“Gage,” I cried, visibly upset with tears that streamed down my face unhindered. I wanted to stop as I quickly wiped at them with my arm. I continued to press the knife into his skin, separating inflamed red muscle with congealed black blood away from the hemostats as I dug them into his arm searching for the slug.
“Don’t be nice about it!” He yelled.
“But you’re mad! I’m hurting you!”
“I’m not mad at you!” He fumed, as he breathed through his teeth. “Just get in and get it out!”
The bleeding increased around the knife and stained the tips of my fingers as I wiped it away. The smell of blood and raw tissue made me feel sick and I grew dizzy as I searched blindly for the bullet. I felt something hard and he flinched as if hit with jolting agony, apparently the root of all his pain. I clamped the hemostats and twisted my hand, in hopes I had the bullet in my grip. It wouldn’t budge, pulling teeth would’ve been easier and I strained to keep my grip. My fingers, slippery and wet from his blood. I felt something crunch then give way through the hemostats into the tips of my fingers.
He jumped back and launched out of the chair. I screamed, startled by his sudden movement. My heart pounded with my rush of panic. He stalked in a circle, his hands clasped tight behind his head as if to stop himself from hitting something, or someone. His temperament hot like a raging furnace as he groaned through his teeth, louder and louder until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Unleashing his rage as he yelled, a gutteral groan and slammed his left fist repeatedly into the back door to direct his pain elsewhere.
“Stop!” I cried. His turmoil unbearable to watch and I wondered if it stemmed from somewhere other than a bullet wound. Somewhere deeper, more painful, like his rage towards Damian that couldn’t be removed or healed so easily as pulling out a slug.
“It’s going to have to stay in!” He said, his eyes raging with something else, more venomous than pain as he stepped away from the door and kept his distance from me as he
continued to pace.
“It’s out,” I said as I glanced at the hemostats with the mangled, bloody slug in my hand. My words, either unheard or ignored as he turned away with his back towards me. “Gage.”
“What!” He said through seething pain as he whirled around and glared at me, my expression probably no less than mortified.
“It’s out… the bullet is out,” I said louder, desperate for him to hear me, then held up the hemostats with the slug clamped between the tips for him to see. He glanced at me then to the bullet, which shook with the slight tremor in my hand. My emotions swirled just below the surface as I tried to force them away, to keep them hidden. Then from somewhere inside me I managed to forge firmness into my tone. “Now get back here so I can disinfect it.”
His gaze fell on me, his breaths still jagged and pained. A lament expression filled his eyes as he pushed the chair in and stood, leaning against the counter. His arms twitched and the muscles in his jaw still flexed as he clenched his teeth.
“What’s going on?” Joel said as he rushed into the room. Apparently, Gage’s outburst heard through the house. His concern settled as he saw Gage’s bloody arm with me still holding the knife in one hand and the hemostats with the bloody slug in the other.
“Nothing!” Gage yelled, still angry and fuming from the pain. “Get lost!”
Joel glanced at the beaten door and shards of splintered wood around the new hole, then gave me a sympathetic glance, which I returned as I without so many words to let him know, we were fine and he left.
Silence and calm curled around me as I felt Gage relax. He took a deep breath and sighed as I re-cleaned the wound, and as much as I tried not to, I glanced up at him. His jaw, set firm with torment and liquid in his eyes as he looked down at me. Tears, not from the pain of the gunshots, though I knew he felt quite a bit of it. I didn’t see one tear form in his eyes moments before, they stayed dry as I dug into his arm. This was an internal pain and I knew this because I felt it too.
“Thank you… and I’m sorry,” he said, I shrugged. I knew his anger wasn’t directed at me. With nothing for pain and under the circumstances, I didn’t expect him to act much different.
“It’s okay.”
I pulled my eyes away and looked at his chest as I brushed my fingers over three round, purple welts. They were inches apart from each other just above his heart where the bullets left a bruise. The three bullets still embedded in the vest. I glanced at Gage again with the realization, had I not insisted he kept the vest on, he probably wouldn’t be here.
His hand moved slowly as he brushed his fingers over my cheek then into my hair. With his other hand, he gently lifted my chin and brought my eyes up to meet his. His soft blue eyes looked into mine and acknowledged as well, we both knew how close he’d come to dying but neither of us dared say it. A knot appeared in my throat and I shuddered at the thought as tears threatened to surface. I barely managed to speak.
“Does this hurt?” I asked, as I touched his chest and the three bruises.
“Not much,” he said. His voice still strained, low and raspy in his throat.
I knew he lied. It had to hurt. Maybe not as much as moments before, but it hurt. His skin flinched when I touched it.
I looked at the black sword pendant sheathed with the koru that still hung around his neck. The black stone dirty and blemished with blood, the silver tarnished a dingy grey. I held it in my hands as washed off the blood and exposed the sheen of the stone as I cleaned it.
“You still have this on?”
“I never take it off.”
Tears flooded my eyes and I couldn’t stop them as they rolled down my cheeks.
“Jade,” he said softly.
“You’re hurt. You could have been,” I paused as it hit me like a ton of bricks, I couldn’t say it. I sniffled back as I fought for composure. I covered the wounds with dressings then wiped my tears with the back of my hand.
“I’m not hurt that badly… It’s over now,” he said. I covered my face with my hands. “Hey… Jade, look at me.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want him to look at me. He put his arms around me and pulled me close into his chest, his cheek rested against my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist. His warm bare skin soothing to touch as I tried to calm the grief I held without much relief. I felt weak as my adrenalin refused to shut off and my heart continued to race, making it hard to breathe.
“It’s over and you’re home… Come lay down on the couch, what I really need right now is to watch you sleep.”
He picked me up as I buried my face in the flesh of his neck and he carried me back into the living room. The plush cushions drew the last of my strength as he set me on the couch just outside Trey's room then grabbed me a blanket and covered me up.
“Will you wake me up if I fall asleep as soon as they are done with Trey?” I asked.
“I will.”
“Promise me,” I demanded.
“I promise I will wake you up if anything happens,” Gage said, then left the room. The refreshing scent of chicken soup wafted through the air as he returned with a bowl and I felt my stomach rumble in hunger. “Marge brought some soup.” Gage said, then handed me the cup.
I sat with my legs curled up underneath me against the armrest of the couch as I held the cup close to feel it’s warmth. The spoon tinged against the cup like chimes in the wind each time I spooned up the savory soup. It tasted better than anything I’d eaten in months and filled me quickly as I finished and handed it back. He took the bowl and set it on the table then sat next to me on the couch.
Uncontrollable shaking grew with intensity as I slid into the cushions of the couch and Gage pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. I was cold but that wasn’t why I shook. The little bit of energy I had earlier had long left my body. The side effects of a six-month rollercoaster ride along with the traumatic rescue at the final moment possible before losing my life sent me into a state of shock.
It didn’t help that my body craved an artificial fix. Over the last month, I received drugs almost constantly and the usual side effects started to surface as I tried to relax. Gage sat next to me and pulled his fingers softly through my hair. I pressed my face in the pillow as he tried to rub my back to calm my stressed muscles.
I heard the front door open and looked over to see Casey walk into the entryway. He glanced at me then walked over. “Do you want something to help?”
“No,” I said. “I want to be able to wake up if something happens to Trey.”
“Some of what?” Gage asked.
“This is the effects of the drug they kept her loaded up on and she can’t come off of it like this. I grabbed a few vials for her before we left... She needs the drug still. We need to decrease the dose gradually… until her body can adjust to it on her own.”
“What happens if she doesn’t get it?”
“She’ll go through withdrawals. Her body will go into shock if taken away suddenly. It’s been given in such large amounts her body needs it to function and can’t without it.”
“Maybe you should take some.”
“It will only get worse,” Casey added. “It could be hours before we know anything about Trey.”
“Okay,” I said, and then looked at Gage. “You’ll have to make me wake up.”
“I’ll make sure you wake up.”
Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as my body tensed. My heart pounded heavy in my chest as I waited for relief. Casey left the room and came back with a needle. Gage pulled back the blanket and held my arm so he could give the injection. I felt the pinch and the burn travel up my arm. My muscles gradually relaxed as the room spun and the dizziness hit me in waves. I closed my eyes and let myself fall asleep.
***
“Jade…” I woke with a start as Gage gently shook me. My eyelids felt weighed down, heavy as cement as I struggled to focus on his blurry image. I rubbed my eyes as he swam in my vision before me.
“What time is it? How long have I been asleep?”
“It’s almost three in the morning… You’ve been asleep for about five hours.”
“Really… Where’s Trey?” My words slurred together.
“Dr. Walstrom just left… Trey isn’t doing very good.”
The room spun slowly in waves. I looked at Gage and struggled to focus, his moist blue eyes reddened, heavy with worry. My heart sank. I stood slowly and staggered into him. He clutched my shoulders as I walked into the room to find Trey. Joel and Casey stood around the bed but left when I came in. Gage sat at the end of the bed. Kane sat across from me at the head of the bed and lifted his head from his hands as I entered. My heart sank as his troubled eyes followed me and I moved next to Trey.
I gasped at the sight of him. His once golden skin tone was a sick, color of bleached bone and his lips took on a dreary shade of gray, his breaths, erratic and jagged as I sat next to him.
“Trey,” I said softly. He didn’t answer, he didn’t even move and my heart dropped like a stone into the pit of my stomach.
About the Author, Mae Redding
Mae Redding lives in a small town west of Ogden, Utah with her best friend and husband of 26 years. She has four kids, her pride, joy and inspiration, and has a love for animals, especially the majestic horse. She enjoys reading, writing, riding horses, spending time in the great outdoors and anything that involves spending time with her family.
Email: [email protected]
Other Books by Mae Redding
Watch for the next book in the Jade series, Jaded Warriors.
Second book- Jaded Warriors
After being rescued by Gage from the obsessive, abusive Damian, Jade is emotionally scarred and unable to leave her guilt and shame behind her. She won’t allow herself the healing influence of Gage’s love as she succumbs to the bottomless pit invoked by the tragedy she was forced to suffer. The battle with Morrison wagers on while Jade tries to come to terms with the devastating effects she caused to those whom she needs and loves the most.
